Five Times
by LessListless
Summary: Five stories depicting five times Olivia was grateful to have Wen in her life. Pure Wenlivia fluff. R&R appreciated.


**Disclaimer:** _I do not own Lemonade Mouth, nor do I have any rights to the lyrics herein. All credit goes to Mark Peter Hughes and Ani DiFranco, respectively.  
><em>**Story Summary:** _Before embarking on their first ever tour, Olivia reflects on how things were before she and Wen became a couple.  
><em>**Series Summary:** _This is a collection of five stories (each inspired by a different Ani DiFranco song) depicting five times Olivia was grateful to have Wen in her life. It's a lot of fluff and cuteness, with a few touches of drama here and there, and a HUGE helping of cheese. Call me a sap, but I love cheesiness.  
><em>**Special Notes:** _1) This is not a continuation of "Invisible," but I use some of the same scenes. 2) I realize that, in the book, the band members were all Freshman, but it was never clarified in the movie. I chose to make them Sophomores (going on Juniors), just for the sake of emotional maturity. 3) This is purely for cuteness and fun, so don't be shocked if I get out of character. 4) __**I love reviews and con-crit!  
><strong>_**Song:** _"Hell Yeah," by Ani DiFranco (from the album Out Of Range)_

**~1/5~  
><strong>"**I Wonder What You Would Say If You Knew"**

_Tour_. The word kept ringing in Olivia's head like a school bell, loud and shocking even after hearing it over and over again; Lemonade Mouth was scheduled for a summer _tour_. It didn't seem possible - they'd only been together for eight months, after all - but with all of the meetings, paperwork, and promotional appearances they'd endured during the last month of their Sophomore year, it couldn't be denied. This was really happening. They were really going places.

For Olivia, this should have been the thing that kept her up at night - she still got sick seconds before going onstage and a tour meant doing that every single night - but surprisingly, this was the first time she'd been able to really obsess over the fact that, in less than a month, she would be out of school and on the road. As of late, most of her thoughts revolved around Wen, and what had become of their relationship. After Rising Star, things had been…different. It had started slow - shy - with things like giving her a kitten, to dancing with her at his father's reception, to walking her to her classes every day. Olivia just chalked this up to their friendship strengthening after their first real fight and reconciliation, even though everything in her wanted to believe that it was something more. Then, after Olivia had finally let all of her walls down and took her friends to meet her father at the New Mexico State Penitentiary, things started to change. Wen took her to movies and had her over for dinner at least twice a week, asked her along any time he took Georgie somewhere, spent most of his week-ends at the White house, and called every night. It wasn't defined, and it wasn't openly romantic, but to Olivia it was dating. And judging by the way Wen's eyes twinkled every time she said yes to something, he considered it to be the same.

This went on for months before the band had performed on The Music Scene and Olivia had - in a thoughtless but good-hearted effort to spare Mo the wrath of her overprotective father - confessed to Moxie Morris that she and Wen had been "dating-ish" for a while, and that's when it all came out. After some awkward shuffling and even more awkward conversation, it had finally been established that, yes, they were a couple, and yes, things would be different now. But the difference wasn't all that noticeable; aside from some hand-holding and other affectionate gestures, they were the same as always. They still did the same things, talked about the same things, disagreed about the same things - they were still best friends, but with a little something extra. They were taking things slow, making sure that their friendship - with each other as well as with the rest of the band - stayed intact. They hadn't even shared their first kiss yet.

It was enough for Olivia, though. Sure, she sometimes caught herself longing for her first real kiss, but all she had to do to remedy that was to think of how things used to be. Back before their relationship, before Lemonade Mouth, before any of this had happened. Back when she was Invisible Olivia, pining over the cute little redhead boy that she met back in kindergarten. The boy that got teased because he was (oddly enough) so much shorter than everyone else, and because he had freckles and carrot-colored hair, and feet that were too big for his twig-like legs. The boy that, over the years, was constantly being yelled at by various teachers for drifting off during lessons, his fingers busily moving over invisible keys on his desktop. The boy that saw her when no one else did, always giving her the tiniest of grins whenever their eyes met by accident across the lunchroom. As they'd grown up, Wen had procured a small but loyal circle of friends while Olivia had stayed within herself. It killed her, knowing that she could have had a friend in him all along, had she just been brave enough to say something to him.

"Olivia," she could hear her grandmother calling from somewhere downstairs, and she snapped out of her stroll down memory lane. Amazing. Even when she was genuinely _trying_ to freak out over the upcoming tour, her thoughts still got drawn back to Wen. She thought she would have adjusted to their relationship by now, but apparently that was not the case. "Sweetheart, we're going to be late."

"Coming, Gram!" She called back, hopping up from her writing desk and rushing around to grab her shoes, bag, and a short-sleeved cardigan before descending the steps to meet her guardian. Even before she and Wen had shifted to more-than-friends, Brenda had become very close with Norman and Sydney, and it was something of a tradition now that they all have lunch together at least one Sunday a month, alternating whose house they went to. It was the Giffords' turn to host this time, which meant that the Whites were in charge of dessert and beverages: Olivia had all of the previous evening working on the perfect banana-butterscotch cream pie and Brenda brewed up some peach iced tea and (of course) lemonade. They situated these items carefully in the backseat of Brenda's cramped four-door before starting off toward Wen's house.

Olivia could feel her nerves bundling as they drew closer and closer to the big yellow house, her entire body filling with nervous excitement over the idea of seeing her boyfriend. She knew this routine by heart now: She would get all worked up, worried that she might say or do the wrong thing, or that his feelings will have somehow changed overnight. Then she would get there and see that overjoyed smile on his face and everything else would melt away, and she would slowly relax until every nerve was settled and secure. She would be a little on edge, conscious of every word that came out of her mouth, but she would know - at her core - that it would take a lot for her to screw this up and even she, with all of her clumsiness and random outbursts, couldn't do it without really trying.

"That boy," her grandmother suddenly chuckled, shaking her head as they pulled into a familiar driveway. Olivia looked up to see Wen already standing on his doorstep like he'd been waiting for them, bouncing on the balls of his feet and smiling widely. "He must have really missed you this time."

Olivia blushed and ducked her head. She knew this was probably the case, but she played it off anyway, "Nah, he's probably just eager to start eating." Brenda laughed at this as well, because she knew as well as anyone that Wen could put away a good amount of food in a short amount of time.

Olivia reached for her door handle but before she could grasp it, the door was opening and a hand reached out for hers. "Allow me," he said in his mock-gentlemanly voice, taking her hand and helping her out of the car. "Brenda," he called out as the older woman got out from the driver's side and opened one of the back doors, reaching in for one of the drink containers. "Let me get those for you."

"I can handle it, Wendell dear," she smiled in response, hitching the first pitcher up against her side.

But he was already halfway around the car and reaching for it. "I know you can," he told her, taking the pitcher and leaning in for the second one, "But when I'm around, you don't have to. I like helping," he gave her a tiny wink before maneuvering the pie on top of one of the pitchers and starting toward the house. He was always doing things like that - helping out whenever he could, especially when it came to moving and lifting and other physically stressful tasks - and playing them off like nothing, ever since Olivia confessed to him that Gram kept trying to do things that she just couldn't do anymore. As soon as he'd seen the worry in her eyes at the idea of her grandmother accidentally hurting herself, he'd volunteered himself for any and all household tasks.

"Thanks, Wen," Olivia said softly, holding the door open so he could amble through. He gave her that smile that took her breath away before hurrying toward the kitchen to deposit the items. The house, Olivia noticed, was full of rich, delicious smells. Meats, spices, breads; she could hear her stomach growling and suddenly couldn't wait to sit down. Then, as her grandmother walked past with that teasing, you-two-sure-are-smitten look, she mumbled, "Oh, just stop," and followed her inside, where the rest of the Giffords were waiting.

She was immediately enveloped by Sydney's arms, in one of those warm embraces that the woman was famous for. "Hello, Olivia," she said sweetly, and the younger girl inhaled deeply, breathing her in; she always smelled vaguely of soap, baking chocolate, and her trademark perfume that reminded Olivia of vanilla Coke. She did this with all of her friends' mothers (or, in this case, _step_mothers) - she memorized their scents, plugging them into the faint memories she had of her own mother and wondering which was closest to the way she would have smelled. Would her mother have smelled like curry spices and sandlewood, like Mrs. Banjaree? Or peppermint and Chanel No. 5, like Mrs. Delgado? Apples and Febreeze, like Mrs. Pickett? Or maybe she would smell like melted plastic and recycled paper, like Mrs. Penn-Yamada, though Olivia had serious doubts about that last one. Gram always carried the aroma of cinnamon and dryer sheets and, even thought she was her father's mother, Olivia thought that this would probably be her mother's scent as well. Cinnamon and dryer sheets. But it was nice to imagine all of the possibilities.

"Hey, hon," Norman hugged her next, quick but tight. Norman, moreso than any of the other parents, had become like a surrogate father to her. Even though she had Gram and was in regular contact with her own father now, it was still nice for Olivia to have a man she could talk to, laugh with, and when the situation called for it, be berated by. She remembered the day, in early January, when he'd been driving through town and spotted her in a bookstore when she was supposed to be in school; he'd taken her to lunch and told her he was "disappointed" and that he "expected more from such a bright young lady." Then he'd just let her talk, telling him about how she wasn't comfortable yet with all of this attention and it was still hard for her to deal with the animosity of the remaining members of Mudslide Crush. He'd listened with quiet nods and sympathetic sighs and then, when she'd put it all out there, he'd countered with helpful advice that _didn't_ include skipping school and jeopardizing her entire future. Since that day, she'd felt a special connection with him that made her feel even more grateful for the way things had turned out for her this year.

The smallest Gifford was the last to hug her, throwing her arms around her waist and squeezing tightly. "Hi, Livey," Georgie grinned up at her, cheeks dimpling.

"Hey, Georgie-porgie," Olivia smiled back, reaching down to pick the girl up and hitch her against her hip. "What are you cooking up for me today?"

Georgie twirled the end of Olivia's braid around her finger and wrinkled her nose, "I forget how to say it."

"Bruschetta," Sydney filled in, taking a step forward, "With prosciutto, tomato and mozzarella."

"I made a salad," Georgie announced proudly, "And Wen and Daddy made the bread."

Olivia glanced at Wen, who was finally reemerging from the kitchen, "You baked?"

He stopped suddenly, eyes wide like he'd walked into some kind of trap, and he said slowly, "I made a loaf of herb bread for the bruschetta. Does that count?" She smiled and nodded before sitting down on the couch, situating the little girl on her lap and listening politely as the adults caught up while the last of the food finished cooking. Wen sat down beside her and, while he was still very shy in his affections, he was comfortable enough to stretch his arm along the back of the couch and rest a hand on her shoulder. Just this simple gesture sent shockwaves through her body and she reached out to give his knee a squeeze before turning her attention back to the adults.

Suddenly, the oven buzzer went off and Olivia jumped, enough to send Georgie flailing backward before Wen reached out to steady her. "So jumpy," he laughed, nudging his girlfriend with his elbow and helping her up once his sister hopped down to follow their father. He laced his fingers through hers and led her through the kitchen and out onto the back patio, where a large table was set up beneath a deck awning. Most of the food was already arranged on the table, and Sydney brought the last of it out, setting a hot dish in the center of the table.

"Now, I know that bruschetta isn't really a meal," the woman said apologetically as she took a seat beside Norman. "But I couldn't stop thinking about the last time I made Italian food and I went way overboard."

Brenda laughed, "Olivia and I were eating leftovers all week." Olivia nodded in agreement, remembering that they'd even resorted to spooning lasagna into Daisy's kitty dish to get rid of it.

"At least it was good," Wen chimed in, eagerly gazing at the setup before him.

"Thankyou, Wen," Sydney smiled, genuinely pleased to hear this. Since the wedding, things had been a lot less strained in their relationship. There were still days when Wen would call Olivia, complaining about this woman who "wasn't even his mother" trying to "act like she had authority over his life," but those calls were few and far between lately. "Well," she waved a hand around, "Dig in."

No one needed to be told twice. It was almost primal, the way hands shot out to grab salad, slices of bruschetta, and spoonfuls of fresh fruits and vegetables. Olivia waited patiently, hands folded neatly in her lap while everyone filled their plates before she finally started filling her own. That meant she was stuck with the smallest portion of everything, but she took it happily. "Here," Wen whispered, reaching to take her plate and put his in its place. It was noticeably larger in serving sizes.

"Wen," she objected quietly, trying to push it back, "I was fine with mine."

He gave her an oh-please look, "I could hear your stomach growling from a mile away. Have mine; I always eat too much anyway."

"So I should eat too much instead?" She gave him a look but took the plate regardless, picking up her fork and subtly pushing the onions out of her salad before drizzling some dressing over it and daintily digging in.

Norman started pouring drinks and passing them, then asked, "So Brenda, how are you handling the upcoming tour?"

Olivia's grandmother took the iced tea he offered her and clicked her tongue, "I have to tell you, Norman, I'm a little bit…" She trailed off, trying to think of the right word.

"Terrified?" Sydney offered with a short laugh, "Apprehensive? Unprepared?"

"All of the above."

The stepmother nodded, "We've been feeling exactly the same way."

Norman sighed and sat back down, "I know we all sat down when this came up and decided that it was an opportunity they couldn't pass up." This was an overstatement. When they'd been signed and issued a summer tour, the parents had all decided that if all of the kids could keep their grades up and their behavior in check, they would be allowed to go. It had been a struggle - especially for Stella - but they'd all squeaked by with Bs and strained tempers. "And I know that Aaheli will be with them-" Mr. Banjaree, fearful of what could happen if his daughter was left unattended with boys but unable to get out of work to chaperone, had convinced his wife to tag along with the six teenagers. "-but I still worry."

"Dad," Wen rolled his eyes, "Mo's mom isn't going to be the only adult there, you know. Between her, the crew, and Isaac and Petra, we're gonna to be watched 24/7."

Brenda reached out to put a hand on the boy's arm, "It's not the same, dear. You all could be watched by drill sergeants in full lockdown and we'd still worry; it's what parents do."

The adults spent a few more minutes talking about the tour and sharing their worries before Georgie announced that she was bored and the conversation switched to her summer sports camp and the trip she was taking to Cloudcroft with her dad and Sydney in a month. During the entire meal, Olivia and Wen stayed mostly silent, nodding and laughing at the appropriate moments. They were content to just listen and eat their food, fingers tangled together under the table, out of sight.

An hour and a half later, after polishing off every crumb of food and the whole banana-butterscotch pie, the group started to divide into their post-meal categories. Georgie helped her fatheer with the dishes, Sydney and Brenda poured coffee for themselves and went to chat in the garden, and Olivia and Wen escaped to the poolhouse, which had been turned into a makeshift music studio. They spent a few minutes discussing the tour amongst themselves, voicing their own concerns that they didn't dare bring up in front of their guardians, for fear that it might be the ammunition they needed to tell the children to stay. Wen was afraid of how the band would get along in such tight quarters. Olivia got dizzy at the idea of performing concerts. Wen wondered if Scott and Mo would continue their on-again-off-again games on the road. Olivia hoped Daisy wouldn't forget who she was while she was away. They went back and forth for almost twenty minutes before finally agreeing that all of this talk didn't change the fact that they were going, and it would be great no matter how scared they were.

"You know what's going to be awesome, though?" Wen noted as he moved to sit behind his upright piano, fingers playing over the keys. "We get to go to states that don't have 110-plus degree summers."

Olivia raised her eyebrows at him, "Have you never heard of moist heat?" He gave her a confused look and she chuckled, shaking her head, "Dry heat here isn't half as bad as moist heat in most states; the humidity is killer. Gram and I went to Missouri a few summers ago and it was awful."

"Gee, thanks," her boyfriend frowned, sighing and playing a few more keys.

A comfortable silence fell over them and Olivia chewed on her bottom lip, glancing at her bag. In it, crumpled somewhere at the bottom, was sheet music to a song she'd had stuck in her head a lot for the past few months. After Moxie Morris, she'd decided that she would print out the music and sing it as Wen played, and he would know exactly how she felt about him…but she hadn't worked up the courage yet. There was always someone else around, or the moment wasn't right, or she just wasn't ready. But now, so close to date of their newest adventure, she couldn't help but think that it was now or never. If she didn't do it before tour started, she would probably find a million reasons to put it off once the chaos started.

"Hey, Wen," she finally got the nerve to call out, distracting him from his current music selection - something that sounded like a mix between "Ode To Joy" and "How To Save A Life." He turned in his seat to face her, waiting for her to continue. "Um," she cleared her throat and started going through her bag, "I have this song that I've…always wanted to sing." Not the full truth, but it was close enough. "I found the sheet music online and I was wondering if you'd play while I sang?"

He gave her a long look, knowing that this wasn't the full story, and she waited with shaking hands and a dizzy mind until he eventually nodded and ushered her over with a smile. She let out a breath of relief and handed him the wrinkled papers, which he smoothed out as best he could and set at eyelevel, readying his fingers over the appropriate keys. "What song is this, anyway?"

"It's called 'Hell Yeah,'" Olivia told him, blushing slightly. She wasn't one to swear, even with such mundane words as "hell," and it had taken her almost six private rehearsals to get through the song without stuttering over the word. Wen tried not to grin at her obvious discomfort and started playing the music set before him, listening closely as his girlfriend shifted nervously beside him before taking in a deep breath to sing.

"_Life is a B-movie, it's stupid and it's strange  
><em>_It's a directionless story and the dialogue is lame  
><em>_But in the he-said-she-said, sometimes there's some poetry  
><em>_If you turn your back long enough and let it happen naturally  
><em>_Oh yeah, oh hell yeah_

_I've got a face like a limp handshake, hair like an accident scene  
><em>_I've been waking up slowly, savoring the same old dream  
><em>_And somewhere in between the folds of your memory  
><em>_I was sleeping soundly  
><em>_Oh yeah, oh hell yeah_"

Wen glanced at her when she took a deep breath, like she was gearing up for something more than a chorus, but she wouldn't look at him. Instead, her eyes were locked on the glass door that led to the pool, watching the water ripple.

"'_Cause I like you, but I know you don't know it  
><em>_I like you so much, I talk to everyone but you  
><em>_And I wonder what you would think of this little number  
><em>_Yeah, I wonder what you would say if you knew_"

She looked back at him then, cheeks a faint pink but she was grinning shyly and still singing.

"_If you don't ask the right question, every answer feels wrong  
><em>_I was a terrible waitress so I started writing songs  
><em>_And I don't know how I feel, but I wonder if you feel like me  
><em>_Do you ever get wrapped up in the folds of my memory?  
><em>_Oh yeah, oh hell yeah_

'_Cause I like you, but I know you don't know it  
><em>_I like you so much, I talk to everyone but you  
><em>_And I wonder what you would think of this little number  
><em>_Yeah, I wonder what you would say if you knew_

_There's a river of people that runs past my eyes  
><em>_It's beautiful enough just to watch it go by  
><em>_The trouble with water is she'll always leave you for gravity  
><em>_I never even told you I had a crush on you or anything  
><em>_Oh yeah, oh hell yeah_"

As he played through to the end of the song, Wen couldn't help but watch Olivia; the way she closed her eyes at certain points, the way she waved her hands in small circles like conductor before an orchestra, the way he lips parted in perfect enunciation of every word. Then there was the message. Everything about this song reminded him of their relationship: From thinking of her constantly but never having the nerve to say anything, to the way she saw herself, to how things just happened to fall into place in the end. He wondered if she'd consciously chosen this song for them, and he decided that she must have. If there was one thing that he knew about Olivia without a shadow of a doubt, it was that music was never without meaning to her.

So as the song came to a close, Wen couldn't stop his right hand from leaving the keys to reach out and cup the side of Olivia's face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and taking her by surprise so she squeaked the very last note of the song. He couldn't help the way he rose to his feet, a smile on his face, and leaned his forehead against hers. And he definitely couldn't help the way his chin tilted forward, causing his lips to brush over hers for a brief - albeit earth-shaking - first kiss. Though it lasted only a second, it left Olivia reeling and gasping for breath, nerves back in a bundle that seemed tightest in her stomach.

"Sorry," Wen apologized bashfully, the same way he had the day he told her he liked seeing her smile. "I just…couldn't help myself."

A slow, cautious smile snuck across Olivia's face and her hand came up to cover his, holding it to her cheek. "You don't have to apologize." She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, eyes locked on his, "It was perfect."

* * *

><p><strong>Coming Up Next:<strong> "Fourth Door From the End" - In which Olivia tries to overcome to resurrection of her crippling shyness when the band is on tour and (mostly) without parental supervision.


End file.
